


never be the same

by onyxaltair



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, F/F, Violence, Widowtracer, a passing mercy and emily too i guess, honestly this is just blather to satisfy me, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 23:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyxaltair/pseuds/onyxaltair
Summary: tracer misses amélie, and life brings them together





	never be the same

Lena woke up to smooth skin beneath her fingertips. She smiled as her eyes fluttered open, falling upon the dark haired beauty in front of her.  
She replayed the night, making her smile even wider.  
She traced circles on Amélie’s thigh, her other hand stretching out on the white sheets in search of her phone.

“It’s just pass six.” Amélie murmured, sitting herself up. “Gérard will be home in an hour.”  
Lena frowned, and begrudgingly pulled herself out bed.  
“Damn.”  
“ _Damn_ indeed.” Amélie said in reply, wandering towards the kitchen. “A tea before you go, chéri?”  
Lena grinned as she strapped her chronal accelerator to her chest and toed on her shoes.  
“Who am I to say no to a cuppa?”

They slowly sipped on their tea for a good part of an hour. Soft smiles and warm kisses were exchanged. She had left just before Gérard had arrived, leaving only a ring of water on the table and faint memories.  
_“Bonjour, mon coeur”_ she had called out as Lena blinked away.

It was a memory Lena had cherished more than many others.

That was the last time Lena saw Amélie.

She thought of it now, while she shovelled ice-cream into her mouth. Choc _fudge_ ice-cream.  
Emily had just left hours ago, and Tracer had wasted no time in breaking out the sweets and sappy movies while she reminisced on good times, yet scarce few of them were of Emily.  
It wasn’t Emily’s fault, to be fair.  
She had loved Emily. She truly did. But there was something her and Amélie had that Emily never could emulate.  
Either way, here she was, alone and eating ice-cream on a Friday night.  
She laughed at that, spooning another mouthful of ice-cream into her mouth. 

 

Her phones ringtone woke her up, a cheerful tune ringing through her apartment.  
Tracer groaned and reached out to it, blindly answering.  
“Wha’cha want.”  
“Talon plan on an attack at the rally in the square tonight.” The voice grumbled. “Location sent through Athena.”  
Tracer wiped at her eyes.  
“Thanks Jack.”

The phone hung up and she rolled off of her couch.  
With the accelerator and years of practice under her belt, she didn’t leave her apartment until a few moments before the rally. She blinked around with ease, styling her hair and dressing with a practiced familiarity.  
She took a deep breath at her door, then blinked out of the apartment.

 

Not a single bullet hit – they rarely did in these kinds of fights, Tracer too quick to hit and not out to wound.

Every time Talon showed up somewhere so did _she,_ and Tracer took it upon herself to take Widowmaker on every time.  
Anyone else wouldn’t be fast enough to outmanoeuvre Widow’s bullets, or would kill her.  
So she sought her out, and fought with her every time.  
She was always on rooftops – as snipers generally were – and they would spar and fight until one of them had the signal to retreat. A witty remark, and the usually short fight would be over until another day.

Yet Tracer felt herself getting sloppy, and she worried. What if one of her bullets hit?  
She frowned.

Amélie had already been killed by Talon twice.

Tracer didn’t want to have to grieve her death again.

So she threw her pistols to the ground, held up her fists in front of her face, and prayed to every deity that she knew of that this would work.  
She breathed out and Widow chuckled, peering down at Tracer. With a swipe of her hand her visor retracted and she placed her own rifle on the ground. She held up her fists defensively, and waited for Tracer to pounce. And she did.

She swung her right hand at Widow’s side and she effortlessly deflected, but didn’t try to land a punch of her own.  
After a few rounds, Tracer had already figured out weak spots.  
She lunged forward and feinted right, before swinging left into Widow’s mouth. It stopped her for a second, wiping blood from her burst lip. She waited till Tracer swung again, then swung out a leg and sent Tracer falling to the ground.  
She followed her down, grabbing both of her wrists.

Widowmaker grinned as she pinned her down. Her honey golden eyes stared deep into her own.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

Her brain seemed to lapse for a second. 

Tracer paused, then let her pistols recall into their wrist holsters. Widows head tilted.  
Tracer leant up, and let her lips brush over Widow’s.  
There was a pause, then she responded, her mouth moving along with Tracer’s.

She almost squealed with delight, the metallic tang of blood brushing her tongue as her hands tentatively rested on the small of her back.  
Widowmaker pulled up for a moment, and with her eyes still closed she travelled down, tracing Tracer’s collarbone with her lips.  
Widowmaker’s teeth grazed over the crook of Tracer’s neck and she gasped, tilting her head back. Her lips grazed her neck as she pulled up, moving to Tracer’s lips. As their lips brushed, Tracer flipped them over, straddling Widow. 

Widowmaker blinked.

Faster than Tracer could recall, Widowmaker had slid out from under her, grabbed her rifle, and had it aimed at Tracer’s head.

“ _Fuck._ ” Tracer said, stiffening.  
Why did she do that? Was her life so bad that she would risk it for a booty call? Her eyes flickered around the dark rooftop. She couldn’t reach her mayday button without visibly moving, and there was nowhere to hide – if she tried to blink Widow would be able to shoot her in seconds.  
_Why was she so naïve?_

“Amélie-“  
Widowmaker laughed.  
“Do you really think you can bring her back? This is me, Tracer. Whoever _she_ was, is gone.”  
“You can’t really think that.”  
Tracer watched her face contort, then quickly smooth back down into her usual sneer.  
“I do not understand.”  
Tracer sighed as a short message played through her in-ear.  
“I know you’re in there. Amélie Lacroix is far too stubborn to let some scientists push her out of her own brain.”

The cool metal of the barrel pushed into Tracer’s forehead.

She closed her eyes.

“I still love you.”

A gunshot rung through the air.

 

-——————————-

 

Tracer walked through white halls, the scent of sterilizer heavy in the air.

Her knuckles had been healed without much of a fuss, her team rather talking about everything they had done to stop Talon at the rally.  
She faked a smile and laughed with them, allowing her mind to slip away from what had happened with her, and they were happy to oblige.

She met Mercy at the end of another corridor, who gave her vague directions and sent her off.

_Left here, take the second right, third door down._

She wasn’t sure how much she should expect, but her forced pessimism could barely stop her from blinking through the halls.

_Take the second right, third door down._

She had been waiting for the all clear, for everyone to finally let her _see._

_Third door down._

She didn’t even hesitate at the door, barely knocking before she swung the door open.

She turned from the window at the end of the room, and faced Tracer as she entered the room.

“Lena.”

Her skin was still slightly purple – Mercy had said she doubted she could bring her heart back to a normal rhythm, but brought it as close to normal as she could.  
Her dark hair was in a low, loose ponytail, strays out and framing her face.  
Her leg was bandaged, but her lips and knuckles had completely healed.  
Most of all though, her honey gold eyes were still the same, catching the light and seeming to glow as she faced Tracer.

“Nobody really calls me that anymore”

Amélie leapt forward, and wrapped her arms around Lena.  
She sobbed into her shoulder, a thousand apologies exchanged in moments.

_“Mon coeur”_


End file.
